Carefully, one by one, they skirted around the tile. But that was only the beginning.
The corridor seemed riddled with hidden dangers.
Spike traps cleverly hidden beneath dust, pressure plates that threatened collapsing ceilings, even a set of thin wires strung across like invisible webs that would trigger darts from the walls. Each time, it was either Chitterfang's nose or Duan's spirit sense that saved them from stumbling into disaster.
Fatty Kui grumbled louder with every step. "I knew it. The harder the road, the greater the reward! You'll see, at the end of this there'll be a whole chest of treasures waiting for us."
"That's wishful thinking," Wu Shuan muttered.
And sure enough, after what felt like nearly half an hour of careful maneuvering, they reached the end of the path. The corridor terminated abruptly in a flat wall of stone.
No altar. No glowing fruits. No treasure. Nothing but cold rock.
"…you've got to be kidding me," Fatty Kui groaned, sagging like his bones had been pulled out. "So many traps, and for what? Just a dead end?"
Han Yu couldn't resist. "Guess left failed you again."
"Ahh!~" Fatty Kui clutched his chest as if stabbed. "Betrayed… by my own instincts."
Senior Brother Duan, however, simply smiled faintly and shook his head. "This is common in tombs. Do not expect every path filled with dangers to lead to riches. Often the builders placed traps merely to exhaust or discourage intruders. One must grow accustomed to disappointment."
They had no choice but to turn back, carefully retracing their steps until they stood once more at the three-way split. Only the central path remained unexplored.
"This one then," Duan said, stepping forward.
They entered cautiously, but almost immediately Han Yu noticed something strange. Unlike the left path, the corridor here was smooth and straightforward. No suspicious tiles. No vents. No wires. The floor was level, the walls unblemished.
For several minutes, they walked without incident.
"This is too easy," Wu Shuan said suspiciously.
Fatty Kui's eyes lit up. "Easy means treasure! Definitely treasure!"
Han Yu, quick as lightning, slapped a hand over his mouth. "Don't. Jinx. It."
But the damage was already done.
A heartbeat later, Chitterfang, who had been trotting ahead confidently, froze.
His ears stood upright, his tail taut. Then he let out a shrill squeak and bolted back toward Han Yu with the kind of speed only mortal terror could produce. He launched himself up Han Yu's leg, scrambling to his shoulder where he buried himself under his collar.
Han Yu's face drained of color. "Shit."
The others stiffened instantly, Duan's grip tightening on his spear.
"What is it?" Wu Shuan demanded.
"Run," Han Yu said flatly. "Now."
The four of them turned on their heels and sprinted back toward the entrance. A moment later, the corridor behind them erupted with a deep, echoing thump. Then another. Then another.
The ground quivered with each impact. Dust trickled down from the ceiling, small cracks spreading like spiderwebs.
"What in the heavens—?" Senior Brother Duan muttered, but there was no time for questions.
The thumps grew louder, heavier, until they blended into a steady tremor beneath their feet.
Han Yu felt Chitterfang trembling on his shoulder, the little rat squeaking frantically in his ear. He didn't need translation. The beast had said only one thing: the ground started to collapse.
Adrenaline surged through Han Yu's veins.
His legs moved like wind, his body weaving instinctively through the corridor as if he had done this countless times before—which, in a way, he had. For origınal chapters go to 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹✶𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲✶𝗻𝗲𝘁
Whether it was escaping irate vendors he had accidentally short-changed back in his home town, furious fellow disciples who had lost bets against him, or, most infamously, debt collectors from three different gambling dens, Han Yu's talent for fleeing was unmatched.
Even Senior Brother Duan, seasoned Core Condensation cultivator of the Inner Court, blinked in astonishment as Han Yu blurred past him like a startled hare.
'How is he faster than me? ' Duan thought incredulously, legs pumping harder.
Wu Shuan and Kui trailed behind, shouting breathlessly.
"Han Yu, wait! Don't leave us!" Fatty Kui wailed, somehow still managing to clutch a half-eaten spirit fruit in one hand as he ran.
Han Yu didn't even look back. "Run first, complain later!"
The tremors grew violent. Behind them, the corridor groaned, chunks of stone starting to cave inward. The sound of the ground collapsing in on itself echoed like thunder.
"Faster!" Duan barked, and the group poured every ounce of strength into their strides.
And still, despite being supposedly the weakest in cultivation, Han Yu remained at the forefront, cloak flaring, dust streaming behind him.
It was at this moment that Duan realized something crucial: when it came to fleeing danger, realm cultivation mattered less than sheer, desperate experience. And Han Yu had far too much of it.
The four of them burst out of the central passageway, their boots thundering against the stone floor as they practically dove back into the three-way split.
A heartbeat later, a deafening roar echoed behind them. The entire corridor they had just fled collapsed in on itself with the grinding of stone and a violent shudder that shook the very floor beneath their feet.
A choking cloud of dust billowed outward, forcing them to shield their faces. When it finally began to settle, all that remained where the corridor had once been was a jagged maw of stone that opened into nothingness.
For a few long moments, no one spoke.
They stood doubled over, gasping for breath, hearts pounding so hard it felt like their chests might burst. Sweat dripped down their temples, their robes clung damply to their backs, and every one of them silently thanked the heavens for their narrow escape.
They weren't out of stamina or really tired necessarily, after all, they were all cultivators. This level of sprint wasn't enough to really tire them out. Their state was more due to the fear and sheer adrenaline pumping through their veins.